


Ama Lurra

by Toastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diary/Journal, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7485864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toastiel/pseuds/Toastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six-year old Ava is playing with her brothers when she stumbles across her mother’s old journal. At the insistence of both angels, the trio sits down and cracks the dusty cover. What follows is the story of one woman’s journey, from falling apart and discovering secrets about herself she never expected, to finding love and family in the most unexpected places. She quickly learns that just because you’re dating God, doesn’t mean your life will be all sunshine and rainbows. With the ups, come the downs, and they must figure out how to get through them, together or not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written in response to the SPNJ2 Big Bang on LiveJournal. It is my first attempt at a Big Bang, but I'm kinda hooked now, so expect plenty more to come. 
> 
> I want to thank Tabby and Tricks for reading this almost as many times as I have over the past four months, and for putting up with my near-neurotic tendencies. You two are amazing and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to finish this thing if it wasn't for the two of you. I love you both more than I can ever say.
> 
> I want to thank my artist, siennavie, for being absolutely amazing and for bringing my story to life. This is a first for me and I'm so SO happy that you chose my fic. I know you've been super busy this summer, but I appreciate all of the hard work you've put into this. You truly are an incredible talent and I hope we get the chance to work together again in the future.
> 
> All artwork is courtesy of siennavie. Do not reproduce or duplicate without permission of the artist.  
> siennavie LJ link: siennavie.livejournal.com

 

**~~~**

 

Hide and seek was fun when she got to play it with her big brothers. She had a lot of brothers and sisters, but Ava’s absolute favorites were Gabriel, Balthazar, and Castiel. She loved them all, of course, but Michael could be so serious, and Lucifer liked to tease her all the time. Raphael hardly ever visited, so they had never grown very close. She loved Anna, her red hair was so long and pretty and Ava spent hours braiding it when the sweet angel would visit her.

 

Gabriel was almost always around. He’d pop up out of nowhere with a lollipop, or a bit of chocolate, and tell her that it was their little secret. He would tell jokes just to make her laugh and they had random tickle fights when the mood struck. Balthazar wasn’t as loud as Gabriel, but he was nice and he’d always put her up on his shoulders and carry her around. When she got too big, he’d give her piggy-back rides instead.

 

Castiel was a lot like her. There were a lot of things neither of them understood, like the bees in the garden, or why certain things tasted good, but then some things tasted yucky. They would sit together for hours, Castiel telling her stories of the past, before her birth, and her mother’s, and her mother’s mother’s. He was ancient and childlike all at once and it intrigued the young girl.

 

“Ready or not, here we come!”

 

She scurried up the steps to the attic as Gabriel’s playful voice rang out through the house. They’d never find her up there. She closed the attic door quietly, then tiptoed across the wooden floor, searching for a good spot to hide. In looking for the perfect place, she failed to see where she was actually going. The six year old tripped over a stack of books, sending them and herself crashing to the ground with several loud thuds.

 

“Ava!” Gabriel burst through the door, panic in his warm, liquid-sunlight eyes. He scanned the area before his gaze fell on her tiny, overall clad form. He hurried over, Balthazar appearing at his side, and picked her up. He sat her on her feet, her white and blue sneakers lighting up upon contact with the solid surface. Satisfied that she was alright, he gave her a bright smile.

 

“What in Dad’s name are you doing up here, beany?” He poked her side lightly, making her giggle.

 

“Hiding.” She replied, giggling as he poked her again.

 

“It’s not safe up here, love.” Balthazar admonished, but his words lacked any sort of authority. “Still, it could have been much worse. Let’s get this mess picked up and go down for lunch, hmm?”

 

“Alright.” She nodded softly, turning around and beginning to gather the scattered tomes. Her fingers tingled as they brushed over the worn black leather of one book. She turned it over in her hand. It was heavy, but not too much so, and there were no markings on it’s cover.

 

“What’s that, beany?” Gabriel asked, pulling the book from her fingers to inspect it.

 

“I dunno. It tickled, though.” She shrugged.

 

“Tickled, huh? Must be warded. Nothing heavy, so it can’t be dark.” The blond man flipped open the front cover and a sly grin broke out on his face. “Do you know what you’ve found, little sister?”

 

“Uh-uh.” Ava shook her head, sandy curls flying about as she moved.

 

“It’s Mother dearest’s journal.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“It’s like a book, but it’s about her. It’s where she wrote all her thoughts and feelings down.”

 

“Oh. We should give it to Mommy then. It’s her’s, isn’t it?”

 

“We could.” Balthazar said, picking  the little girl up and placing her on his hip, “Or, we could take a peek at it first. What do you say?”

 

“She cursed a lot back then. I don’t know if reading it to a six year old is the best idea.” Gabriel gave Balthazar a pointed look. One of them had to be responsible, after all, and as hard as it was for the archangel to take anything seriously, he had to be the voice of reason, even if they didn’t follow it.

 

“We curse a lot, brother. It’s nothing she hasn’t already heard.” Balthazar rebuked. “What’s the harm in reading a bit of it?”

 

“Isn’t that like spying?” Ava asked uncertainly.

 

“If she didn’t want it read, she wouldn’t have left it lying about, now would she, love?”

 

“I guess not.”

 

“It’s settled then. We’ll read a bit, and then we’ll give it to Mother.”

 

“Okay,” Ava chirped brightly as the three of them settled down on an old tartan sofa in the corner of the attic. They shifted, placing the child between them, and opened the book. Gabriel’s soft, melodic voice filled the air a moment later as he began to read the first passage.

 

**~~~**

 

**2/10/08**

I don’t know why I’m doing this. My counselor, James, said it would be a good idea, a way to get my thoughts out and maybe organized. I don’t know if I have much faith in his method, but what can it hurt?

 

He’s helped me a lot more than I expected him to since I started seeing him back in June. I’m skeptical about this. I’m stressed about making deadlines for my classes. Now I’ve got something else to do alongside it.

 

I’ve had fewer attacks since I started talking to James and I’m working through my issues. I was a wreck when we started our sessions. Finals almost drove me insane, and I’m talking padded rooms and straight jackets here. I pushed too hard and got too worked up over the tiny details of every little thing., but I never do anything halfway.

 

On the bright side, Professor Clark isn’t holding it against me. He says he’s seen it happen all too often. The Dean is letting me keep my A, too. I guess there’s someone looking out for me somewhere.

 

I’m a writing major, by the way, but I moonlight as a dancer. Well not _moonlight,_ moonlight. I’m not a stripper, but I do it as a hobby. I should've said that first.

I have rehearsal soon. The spring showcase is coming up and I’ve got to nail this piece. It’s my last chance. I graduate in May and then that’s it.

 

Huh. I graduate in May. I only just realized that. I’m not really sure how I feel about that. Scared. Nervous. Excited. Some odd, unsettling mix of all three?  I’ll deal with that mess later, though. I’ve got to get to rehearsal.

 

**-**

 

Rehearsal went about as well as it could. Some freshman decided that personal space was just a suggestion and now I’ve got a sprained ankle. Director Halloway called a campus medic and he said it should be fine in a few days, but I need to stay off of it as much as possible. That’s probably not going to happen, but we’ll see.

 

I was hobbling home, trying to ignore the pain by going over my routine in my head, and wouldn’t you know I just about ran some poor guy over. There’s my second encounter with the ground today. That’s always a joy. I should be used to it, I guess. I’m not exactly graceful. Most people think it’s funny that I’m a dancer. Maybe funny isn’t the right word. Ironic, maybe? Truth is, outside the studio and the stage, I’ve got the grace of a three-legged antelope in a stampede. I’m very well acquainted with falling on my face. And my ass. Especially my ass.  

 

 

Anyways, back to the guy I ran into. He was so sweet. He kept apologizing and helped me up, and he had the cutest smile, and his eyes. God, I could stare at those eyes for days. They were so blue and deep. But they were sad and lonely, too. His name was Chuck Shurley. He was such a gentleman, walking me back to my apartment. He was nervous, and blushing, and so cute. I think I may have said that already. Whatever, he’s cute. I gave him my number, which is kinda silly. He could be a serial killer or something. Still, he’d be the most adorable, and least suspicious serial killer ever.  

 

I really hope he calls soon.

 

**2/12/08**

He called! Chuck called me! He sounded so nervous and kept stuttering and stumbling over every other word, but he called! He wants to go out tomorrow night. We both decided that Valentine’s wasn’t likely to make a good first date. Or only date. I hope it isn’t the only date. I’ve only met him once, but he’s sweet and cute.

 

My counselor says I’m jumping the gun, and my friend Leila agrees. Maybe I am getting too caught up too fast, but he’s the first guy that’s ever asked me out!

 

That just sounds pathetic. I’m almost 24, but it’s just that, I’ve always been the one to do the asking. I’ve never been shy, and I’m not one to ignore impulse. I’m not ashamed of that. I’m a strong, independent woman who knows how to go get what she wants. Still....

 

HE ASKED ME OUT!!!!

 

**-**

 

Leila came over. We had dinner (she cooked. I’m not allowed to anymore. Almost set  the building on fire last time) and we talked. She thinks I’m getting too invested too quickly, and I’ll admit I’ve probably been a total pest all day. I’ve done nothing but check my phone every twenty minutes or so. I’ve alternated between asking her why he hadn’t called and cursing the fact that he hadn’t called.

 

She laughed when I told her he finally did. Then she called me high strung and drank my wine. I flicked a pea. She flicked a pea. I have peas all over my kitchen floor. I’ll clean them up tomorrow.

 

**2/13/08**

That was a disaster.

 

I want to curl up in a ball and die.

 

**2/14/08**

Let me explain my melodrama.

 

Chuck was amazing. The gentlemen I claimed he was to start with.

 

Everything else was a hot mess.

 

The restaurant was alright, the food wasn’t bad, but the waiter was a dick. We skipped on the bill (after some persuasion on my end; you don’t pay for crappy service). Somehow we ended up at a bar where some wasted frat guy thought it would be alright to hit on me.

 

Now this might have been flattering, except that, again, he was drunk off his ass, and what he thought were whispered insults about me to his friends were actually yelled for everyone in the joint to hear. Apparently I’m a ‘tiny whale’ and he would never ‘hit that’ without being drunk.

 

I was embarrassed, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me, until Chuck got upset, and I’m not ashamed to say that it was incredibly attractive. He demanded the jerk apologize. Something clicked when he got angry. Like a pulse of adrenaline through my whole body.

 

When said asshat drenched me in beer (he was aiming at Chuck, but again, wasted), Chuck laid him out. Didn’t even pause to think about it. One hit and the idiot was on the floor and being coddled by his friends with blood pouring out of a broken nose. For a small guy, Chuck Shurley packs a hell of a right hook.

There’s something about having someone fight for your honor that makes you feel like a lady.

 

We got kicked out of the bar, but that was fine with us. Until it started raining. Rain in February here is more like having tiny pellets of hail beating you in the face while still soaking you. At least it washed away some of the beer.

 

He walked me all the way home in the mess, his jacket held over our heads. It was romantic and sweet if a bit cheesy and cliched. Not to mention awkward, I was still limping a bit from my freshman fiasco.  I tried to invite him up to let him dry off a bit, and maybe have a cup of hot tea, but he refused. He didn’t say it, but I think he was kind of ashamed of what he’d done. There was something in the way he said it, almost like he didn’t think he deserved anything more than being made to walk home in the freezing rain, soaking wet, with a bruised fist.

 

Like I said, it was a disaster.

 

I hope he asks for a second one. If he doesn’t, I will.

 

**2/17/08**

He hasn’t called me yet. What did I do wrong? Did I scare him? Or is he just not that interested?

 

Rehearsals again tonight. My ankle is better, no more pain when I stand on it, which is nice. Here’s to hoping I can manage to focus on practice and not on Chuck, or why he hasn’t called me back. Should I call him?

 

Leila said no.

 

**-**

 

Leila picked me up after rehearsal and we went out for coffee. I think she wanted to make sure I stayed off my phone. It’s cold and late and I hate riding on that damn moped of her’s. I always feel like an idiot when she makes me wear that stupid helmet. She knows I hate it, but she refuses to get me a new one, and when I bought my own, it just disappeared. Sneaky friend is sneaky.

 

**2/18/08**

Classes went alright. Got my grade back for my first journalism assignment. It’s not what I wanted, but I guess it’ll do. This professor seems a bit more picky about content and subject choice than any of my previous professors, but I can’t decide if that’s good or bad. I guess time will tell. I’ll just have to work harder next time.

 

On the topic of classes, I don’t think I could fail my Current Events course if I wanted to. All we do is talk about what’s going on around us, and there’s no homework,  no coursework,  no syllabus...I have to wonder how this woman is even allowed to teach. I’m using the word teach loosely, of course. All professor Bates does is sit behind her desk and fire random conspiracy theories at the students that bother to show up. Not that she bothers with attendance. I’m pretty sure I could just not go the rest of the semester and still pass with an A. It’s a thought. A tempting one.

 

He still hasn’t called. I cracked and called him last night. I left a message, but no response. I’m kinda starting to wonder if he’s alright. I’d go to his place to check on him, but he’s not listed anywhere and I have no idea where he lives beyond that he lives in town. Why is this driving me so crazy? Why am I letting it?

 

**2/19/08**

Had dinner, or what equates to dinner for a broke college kid: instant ramen noodles and a glass of box wine (thank you, Leila). Watched a movie, but I don’t remember the name of it. It was stupid, so why bother? I got distracted and started reading Supernatural halfway through.

 

Have I mentioned my little obsession? It’s a series of books written by Carver Edlund, about two brothers that drive across country in their Dad’s Impala and fight evil, supernatural creatures. It’s all about the power of family and doing what’s right even when it’s hard. It’s about failing and making mistakes, admitting you screwed up, then doing your best to fix them. Most of all, it’s an inspiration. Those books got me through the hardest time in my life. I think back to Sam and Dean, losing their mom, then their Dad, then each other. They never gave up, though. They kept pushing, kept fighting the good fight.

 

**-**

 

Why hasn’t he called? I’m going to go crazy over this if he doesn’t call me soon. I thought he had a decent time with me. The situation was crappy, yeah, but it’s all about the company, right?

 

I’m overthinking this. I’m going to go have a nice relaxing bath, then take a book to bed.

 

**2/20/08**

Chuck called. He apologized profusely for not getting back to me sooner, but he said he’s been sick. I wouldn’t have believed him (it wouldn’t be the first time a guy has lied to me, right?), except that he sounded like he’d been run over a few times and then sat on by an elephant. In other words, he sounded awful. I tried to get an address out of him, told him I’d bring him something to eat, and maybe some medicine (he said he hasn’t left his house in days), but he refused. He said he was fine and that he didn’t want me fussing over him when I had more important things to do.

 

I don’t know if I should feel annoyed that he doesn’t want my help and is being stubborn, or flattered that he’d rather I focus on school than on him. It’s nice that he actually cares about my future. Or at least he seems to care. I want to believe that he does.

 

He asked if I wanted to go out, and I said yes, of course. He said he’d give me a call in a day or two, once he was feeling a bit better, and I told him to take his time. His health is more important than any date. He laughed (he has the cutest laugh!) and said an awkward goodbye before he hung up.

 

**2/21/08**

I was doing research for my next journalism piece, and I came across this article about a police station in Colorado just exploding. They’re blaming faulty gas lines, but something seems off about the whole thing.

 

Come to think of it, a lot of weird/unexplainable/just plain freaky things are happening lately. It’s all over the country. What the hell is going on out there?

 

**2/22/08**

School (boring).

 

Rehearsals (boring).

 

Homework (boring).

 

When did my life get so monotonous? I’m boring. I didn’t even notice until Leila asked me to go to a party with her tomorrow night and I said no. She asked me why and I said, “Homework.”

 

HOMEWORK!

 

Worst excuse ever.

 

Really, I just don’t want to go and have a bunch of drunken assholes hitting on me. I’d consider it if I could bring Chuck, but according to my dearest friend, he’s too old.

 

He’s not old. He’s like, what, thirty? Not old. Mautre. The beard makes him look older. The glasses too, but they’re so cute. He’s so cute.

 

I’m doing it again. I’m going to bed now. Again, thank you, Leila for the massive box of wine. It’s going to a good home.

 

**2/26/08**

I have to say, the second date was much better than the first. I told him I was a cheap date and he laughed. We ended up at Biggerson’s, eating burgers and fries and sipping on milkshakes. We talked about anything and everything we could think of, but he seemed pretty quick to avoid talking about himself. He was happy to listen to my life story, but the moment I asked him about his childhood, or high school, or anything like that, he clammed up and turned the conversation back to me. I’ll leave it alone for now. Maybe he’s just not ready to talk. Maybe it's a trust thing. I’ve had my fair share of jerks. I don’t know, maybe he has too.

 

We took a walk through town. It was nice. He even held my hand. He’s got nice hands, if a bit rough. They’re warm and big and there’s something about him that leaves me feeling strange. Not in a bad way, just strange. Like I know him, like I’ve always known him, and that he’s safe and that he’ll protect me. It’s weird. I hardly know him. Hell, I don’t even know what he does for a living and he knows how I got the scar on the inside of my knee at the age of seven. Is that normal?

 

Probably not. He’s probably a serial killer and I’m going to be dead in a few weeks.

 

**3/3/08**

Not a serial killer.

 

A writer. Carver fucking Edlund to be exact. How the hell did I miss that? I love his books. I have all of them. I should have him sign them all. Would that make me creepy? I don’t want to be creepy.

 

I’m dating CARVER EDLUND!

 

Eat that, samlicker81. Have your Damcest. I’ve got Carver Edlund.

 

Oh, I haven’t mentioned her yet, have I?

 

Samlicker81 is my ~~personal~~ arch ~~enemy~~ nemesis. She claims she’s the number one fan of the books (wrong!) and that she’s Chuck’s biggest fan (wrong, again!). She runs a ridiculous site called morethanbrothers and it’s total garbage. Sam and Dean are brothers. Sure they love each other, but it’s hardly romantic. Unhealthy, probably a bit unhinged, but definitely not incestuous. That’s just...no. Ew. No.

 

I hate her with a passion. She trolls my page, my posts, my comments. No matter what I say, she’s got to come back at me with something and it’s never something good, or right, or even remotely feasible. It’s trash.

 

I hope I never have to meet her in person. One of us will walk away very upset. Or not at all. I might kill her.

 

We’re going out again soon, but I’m not entirely sure when. Midterms are coming up and I’ve got a few I actually need to prep for. He’s so concerned about my doing  well. It’s nice to have someone in my life that actually cares. I haven’t had that since my Dad died. Mom ran out when I was a baby, couldn’t handle parenthood I guess. Dad was my rock, my support. He was everything.

 

**3/13/08**

It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything. School has been crazy and I’ve spent most of my time trying to study for mids and rehearsals. I’ll be so happy to be done with this degree and these classes.

 

I had dinner with Chuck last night. He wanted to go out, but I told him I couldn’t. Next thing I know, he’s knocking on my door with a bag of Chinese take-away and a bottle of cheap wine. I’d told him I was a cheap drunk. Guess he wanted to test that theory.

 

He set everything out and we ate while I studied. He quized me on a few things, and read over my journalism paper. This man walks around with a red pen in his pocket. Would it be too forward of me to ask him to marry me? Probably too soon, yeah?

 

My paper wasn’t awful, but it had some issues. He took over my laptop and started editing it for me. I couldn’t help myself. I kissed him. It wasn’t anything special, just a peck on the lips to show my appreciation for everything, but there was something there, like a spark or something. He felt it too; I could see it in his eyes.

 

We spent the rest of the night in what I can only call companionable silence. It was the first time he’d been inside my place, but he acted as though he’d been there all along. It was so easy. He made himself comfortable and just acted like he belonged there. I loved it.

 

Then he saw my collection of the Supernatural series. I’m guessing he did it while I was putting the leftovers away, but I looked this morning and they’ve all be signed, ‘To Meghan, Love Carver.’

 

That simple. No last name, not stuffy professional oneliner. ‘Love Carver.’ I wonder what he meant by that? Maybe? No. It's only been a month. Not everyone falls hard and fast like I usually do.

 

It’s funny that I haven’t felt that way about him yet. I’m normally the type that thinks it’s love after the first date. I’m a total romantic, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but this time things are different. Maybe it’s Chuck. He’s not like the other guys I’ve dated. He’s sweet and timid and modest. He cares. I don’t feel like he just wants to use me and move on. I think this could be real.

 

That terrifies me to no end. This thing I feel with him makes me wonder if I’ve ever really experienced love before.

 

**3/21/08**

He knows my secret now, knows what I am and what I do. He seemed a bit surprised at first, but then he was fine with it. He’s not the religious type, but most people have something negative to say when they find out. Leila, and now Chuck, being the exceptions.

 

Leila’s first reaction was hilarious. She was almost giddy about it, asking if I could hex her jerk of an ex. She got pretty bummed when I told her no. Wiccan and witch are not synonymous. She got over it pretty quick, though. She’s even been to circle with me a few times. It’s not for her, and that’s cool, but she’s the first person to ever actually take an interest. I’ve told her time and time again that she has no clue how special that makes her in my life.

 

I wasn’t expecting him to knock on my door at nine pm. I was dressed in my normal ritual wear, black billowy pants, black tank top (billowy sleeves and open flames do not mix. Learned that the hard way), and barefoot. My hair was pulled back (again, open flames) and I was proudly wearing about twenty different pentacles, ankhs, spirals, even little goddess earrings. His eyes were huge and then he just smiled and laughed.

 

“I knew there was something magical about you.”

 

That’s what he said. So smooth.

 

He said he could come back, but he was already there, so I dragged him inside. He was so sweet, offering to wait for me to finish. He made dinner while he waited and when I was finished, we had a nice long discussion about it. He knew a lot more than I expected, but then again he wrote the Supernatural books, so I guess he had to do a bit of research.   

 

I asked him what his religion was. He gave me an odd look. It just so happens that he’s agnostic.

 

**3/22/08**

Midterms are done and it is officially spring break. I’m not going anywhere, but it’s nice to be able to sleep in and just be lazy for a few days.

 

Chuck says he has a surprise for me, and I’m a little worried about what his idea of a surprise entails. He said something about an anniversary, but I’m not sure what he meant by that.

 

**-**

 

He took me to a spa! He said I was too tense and too wrung out (thanks a lot) from dealing with midterms, and that it was our one month anniversary (apparently the day we met, we were instantly an item. I wasn’t aware, but he seems pretty sure of himself so I’ll let him have it), so he was taking me somewhere to relax. He kept apologizing because he’s almost a month late, but he didn’t want to interrupt my mid-term cram and spring break seemed the best time. I thought he was talking about lunch and a movie or something.

 

He picked me up in his car (which I didn’t know he had). It’s not what I expected, but it kind of suits him if that makes sense. It’s older, a ‘91 Sentra, I think. Grey color, worn grey interior. A little beat up, but still in good condition. It reminds me of the man that drives it in a way. He blindfolded me and kept quiet the whole way. I guess he was scared of spilling the surprise. When he stopped and helped me out, we were in the middle of nowhere at one of the best spas in the county, Riversong.

 

He didn’t leave, though. He stayed with me the whole time, from facials and mani-pedis, to mineral pools and massages. It was amazing. I was somewhat mortified at him seeing me in a swimsuit, but he just brushed it off, told me I was beautiful and then he kissed me. Let me mention here that he looked great in nothing but a pair of trunks. He’s not ripped or anything, and he’s got a bit of a tummy, but I think it’s cute, and it works on him.

 

He freaking kissed me, and I do not mean a tiny little peck on the lips. No, this was a full on kiss. Remember that little spark I mentioned? It was a goddamned explosion. Like someone set off fireworks inside my stomach and blew away all the butterflies. It was amazing.

 

I feel numb, but in a good way. That massage was deliriously good, and the woman giving it did not hold back. I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow, but the knots will still be gone, so ha! I’m going to bed now before I pass out.

 

**3/23/08**

Pain. SO. MUCH. PAIN.

 

It was worth it, though. I can barely move, but I don’t really have any plans for the day. Honestly, I’d still be in bed if I didn’t have a bladder.

 

Eh. Back to bed.

 

**3/24/08**

I can move again. Which would be nice if my apartment wasn’t a total disaster zone and in need of a deep clean. Now that I’m aware of it’s state, it shall not be ignored. Time to clean.

 

**-**

 

Apartment is clean. I feel dead.

 

Back to bed.

 

**3/25/08**

I need to stop drinking before bed.

 

I dreamt about Chuck, but it was so far from pleasant it’s not even remotely funny.

 

Blood everywhere. Darkness. Pain. I couldn’t feel it, but I know it was there. It was everywhere. Screams came from every direction and I couldn’t stop shaking. The only light in it all was Chuck, and he was a mess. He was covered in blood, battered and bruised and he looked so broken.

 

I woke up crying and shaking, covered in sweat. I don’t want to sleep again. It was simple and horrifying.

 

**3/27/08**

Spring break is almost over. Part of me wants to go back, to power through the next two months, and the showcase, but the rest of me doesn’t want to leave my bed. I’m very tempted to spend the rest of my day in bed, but Chuck said he’d come over to hang out for a bit (I don’t know if this counts as a date or not), and I’d be a horrible hostess to just loaf about in bed.

 

I had another dream. It was pretty much the same as the last. I don’t know if I should tell him or not.

 

**-**

 

We loafed about on the sofa instead. He was alright with having a lazy day, said his head’s been hurting him. He gets pretty bad migraines sometimes, and I felt bad for him, so I shut off the lights and closed the blinds and we just spent the whole day snuggled up in front of the T.V.

 

It was nice. I feel like I can be myself with him, and we’ve only known each other about two months now. I shouldn’t feel this way. I know I shouldn’t. But I do. I’m not sure I can say love yet, but I do care about him, and I want him in my life. I don’t want him to go anywhere and I’m scared that if I tell him any of this, he’ll run. I don’t want to scare him off. That’s the last thing I want. I realized, after seeing him in pain like I did today and not being able to make it better, that I want to take care of him. Someone needs to. It’s not like he’s taking spectacular care of himself.

 

I didn’t bring up the dreams. He’s in no condition to deal with them at the moment, and it’s not like he can make them go away. I’ll leave it for now. I just let him lay in my lap and I rubbed my chilly fingers on his forehead. He seemed to like it, considering he dozed off.

 

**3/30/08**

There is seriously something wrong with people. Some guy in Ohio shot himself in the head yesterday. Why? Some woman kept calling a dead phone line. That’s messed up.

 

On a less creepy note, tomorrow is April Fool’s. I wonder how Chuck takes being scared?


	2. Part Two

**4/1/08**

Note to self, do not prank Chuck. I think he broke my nose.

 

I’m going to the emergency room now.

 

**4/2/08**

My nose is not broken, thankfully. Chuck drove me to the ER and spent most of  the night sitting with me in the waiting room. Why can’t the emergency room have and ‘in-out’ option for the not so serious scares? He apologized every five minutes and the look on his face made it hard for me not to laugh. Actually, I did laugh. Several times. It wasn’t entirely his fault, though. I shouldn’t have scared him.

 

I knew he was coming up. After I buzzed him into the building, I hid behind the door. I just wanted to jump out and give him a start. I never expected him to flail like a teen at her first boy band concert. He elbowed me right in the freaking nose.

 

He feels awful about it, and I know that saying I forgive him isn’t going to change that. It’s just the way he is. Is it strange that I can already read him so well, or is that normal? Nevermind; nothing about our relationship has been normal.

 

We ate and he took me home and apologized one last time before leaving.

 

**4/5/08**

The showcase is in one week and I've never felt less ready of anything in my life. I've told Chuck, and Leila; I even told my counselor. They all think I'm overthinking it. They tell me how great I am and how well I'm going to do, how I'm going to ace it and take the top spot. I wish I had half as much confidence in myself as they all seem to have in me.

 

I need to practice.

 

**4/7/08**

It’s three in the morning and I can’t sleep. This damn dream just keeps coming back everytime I close my eyes. It’s really starting to scare me. I’m going to have to talk to him about this, If I don’t, it’s going to eat me alive. It has to mean something, otherwise it wouldn’t recur. The question is what? What could it possibly mean?

 

I’ll tell him after the showcase. I can’t worry about anything else right now.

 

**4/10/08**

Two days. I've only got two days left. This is going to be a disaster. I'm going to fail and ruin everything. All that hard work for nothing.

 

~~_Don't believe a word she says. It's all lies._ ~~

 

Chuck found my journal. I should really hide it better.

 

~~Yes, you should.~~

 

I don’t think he saw the bit about the dreams. If he did, he’s not saying anything about it. Not sure what I did to deserve him, but I’m glad I have him.

 

**4/12/08**

The showcase is in three hours. I can't breathe or think. I can barely write, I'm shaking so badly. I have to go get ready. Chuck and Leila will be here soon.

 

**-**

 

That was exhausting. Not as awful as I expected it would be, but I didn't take the top. Third. I got third. My brother showed up, which was unexpected, and he made sure to tell me how much of a disappointment I was. His exact words, ‘Dad would be rolling over in his grave.’ He’s always been so competitive. He took Dad’s death pretty bad, too.

 

I don't even feel bad that Chuck blew up on him. He's a sweet guy, but I've learned very quickly that Chuck Shurley is not a man to be trifled with. He didn't even have to touch Dyllan. Hell, he didn't even raise his voice and that made it so much more terrifying. And sexy. I swear I could feel the Earth trembling beneath me when he gets like that, like he’s some powerful being and I’m just a lowly mortal ready to bow at his (so adorable) feet. His eyes blaze when he's mad, and his voice gets all deep and rumbly, and I can't help but feel all that much more attracted to him for it.

 

Anyways, Dyllan booked it out of there pretty fast after that. Chuck took me out to dinner, nothing too fancy, and then he took me home. He came up, we drank some wine, and he left. It's been three months and he's yet to push for more. We’ve kissed, but that's it. I love that he's such a good guy, but come on. Maybe I need to make that first move. Maybe he's just too shy?

 

On a side note Leila likes him. That’s good. I don’t know what I’d do if they didn’t get along.

 

**4/14/08**

I broke down and told him about the dreams. I tried to tell him the other day, but I was just too exhausted to say much after everything that happened with the showcase and my ass of a brother.

 

He called to see if I wanted to go out later this week, and we chatted for a while after that. It just kind of slipped out. Next thing I know, he’s knocking on my door. He didn’t even say anything. He just pulled me into a hug and then he’s rocking me on the sofa like a toddler while I cry and telling me that everything would be alright. What’s more is that I believe him.

 

I can’t explain it, but I felt better for telling him, and I know he was telling me the truth when he said we’d be alright. He seemed like he truly understood what I was going through.

 

**4/18/08**

I'm beyond ready for all of this to be over. I just want my degree. I don't even want to walk for it. Honestly, I wouldn't be walking if Chuck and Leila weren't making me. I hate the spotlight. Yes, it's a stage, but it's not the same. I wouldn't be surprised if I fall on my face.

 

Chuck is here. More later? Maybe.

 

**4/19/08**

He stayed the night, and for the first time since it started, I didn’t have that dream. I didn’t have any dreams. I spent the night curled against his chest, surrounded by the smell of ink and whiskey and something ashy I couldn’t quite place but that screams ‘Chuck.’ It was nice.

 

We had dinner (pizza, ordered in) and some wine. We snuggled on the sofa and watched Casablanca, and by the time it was over, we were both ready to crash. I asked him to stay, and he did. Nothing else happened. We just cuddled all night.

 

But the nightmare didn’t come and that makes me wonder if it’s based on a fear of losing him or something. I’m not a psych major and I avoided psychology classes like the plague, but there’s got to be a reason for this. Maybe I’ll ask James. He is my counselor after all, he should know, right?

 

**-**

 

He doesn’t know. He thinks I’m overthinking things. It just a dream, he said, my mind’s way of processing information while I’m sleeping. There’s got to be more to it, though. I’ve never had ~~dreams~~ nightmares that feel so real. I’ve never been so shaken because of a dream.

 

**5/1/08**

Beltane has got to be my favorite, well, second favorite day of the year. Samhain is the first, always. Dressing up, getting candy (yes, I still Trick-or-Treat. No, I’m not ashamed). Who says no to that?

 

There’s a bonfire tonight. I don’t usually go to public circles, especially when I know most of the people there will be working skyclad, but it’s Beltane, so I feel obligated. Chuck says he’s coming with me, wants to see what all the fuss is about. I tried to talk him out of it. If you’re going to your first public circle on a holiday, Beltane would not be the holiday I would suggest. Too much, too fast. He’s persistent thought. He’s insisting on going with me.

 

Part of me thinks he’s worried for my safety. Another part of me thinks he’s worried about my fidelity. I should be upset by that, but it just means he’s as insecure as I am. He’s cute and funny and sweet, and women should be falling down at his feet begging for his time. I’ve seen a few stare at him, or try to flirt, but he’s hopelessly oblivious. He just smiles and keeps going. I don’t think I have anything to worry about. He doesn’t either. I was lucky enough to have him think I deserve him. I’m not going to be stupid enough to give him up.

 

**-**

 

That was definitely interesting. Dozens of naked people, and he didn’t even blush. He was courteous and a perfect gentleman. I never doubted he would be. In the end, he only had eyes for me. He sat off to the side, watching the ritual (I didn’t expect him to take part or anything) and every time I’d circle back around to face him, he was focused entirely on me. Does he have any idea how that makes me feel?

 

I bet he does.

 

**5/10/08**

I’m freaking out. I’m seriously freaking out. I don’t want to walk. I can’t do this, all those people watching me, staring at me, waiting for me to fall on my face like the graceless little gnome I am. It’s going to be humiliating at best. Chuck says I don’t have to if it’s that big of a deal, but Leila is dragging me across the stage if she has to. I’m losing my mind. I can’t do this. I can’t!

 

~~_She can and she will._ ~~

 

I really wish people would stop doing that.

 

~~_Maybe you should hide things better._ ~~

 

I give up.

 

~~_Not allowed._ ~~

 

~~_I have to agree._ ~~

 

Now they’re ganging up on me.

 

**-**

 

I wore the flattest shoes I own and I didn’t fall on my face. Yay me. I got my degree certificate and I am officially done with college. Not soon enough if you ask me. Now I just have to: move out of student housing, find a job, and adult. Adulting sounds hard. I don’t wanna do it.

 

Moving out will be the hard part. I haven’t been able to work full-time and go to classes, so I’ve just been living off of financial aid and such. I need to find a job and soon, but that’s easier said than done. I’ve put out a few resumes and I’m hoping to hear something back, but in the meantime, I’ve got to be out of my apartment within the month. Gotta make room for people who are still paying in, after all.

 

**5/21/08**

I can honestly say that I love this man. He didn’t even ask me to move in with him. He just showed up, handed me a key, and helped me start packing. He even brought boxes. I don’t really have much worth keeping, to be honest, but he packed everything like it was made of diamonds and rubies and gold. Even my ratty old sweats.

 

Seriously. How the hell did I get so lucky? I don’t deserve him.

 

I just realized I still have no clue where he lives.

 

_Where **WE** live. You live there, too. And you deserve the world. Now stop writing, and start packing! _

 

Right. Where we live. I live there now, too, apparently. That’s going to take some getting used to. He’s giving me that look. I better help pack.

 

**-**

 

Now he’s telling me I can move out if I want, when I find a place. He’s scared I’m not ready for this, but I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life. I really do love him, and I know we’ve moved at a weird pace, but it works for us, and that’s all that matters. The only thing I’m scared of right now is figuring out in a few months that we can’t share a space. I’ll annoy him, or he’ll annoy me, we’ll have a huge, pointless fight, and then what?

 

It’s only been three months, but I don’t want to remember my life without Chuck in it. I sure as hell don’t want to go back to it.

 

**5/22/08**

This house is a mess. It’s cute and quaint on the outside, like all the other two-story Cape Cod’s around the area. It could use a fresh coat of paint and the yard needs some upkeep, but it’s still nice. Inside, it looks like a bomb went off. Books and papers and magazines scattered everywhere. An alarming amount of half-empty bottles of scotch or vodka on any available surface. Should I ask him about those? Dishes piled in the sink. A thick coat of dust.

 

He’s been living alone too long. He’s apologized for the state, and I get it. With his headaches, it's hard to care about chores. Still, my OCD is freaking out. I’m going out for cleaning supplies.

 

**-**

 

I’ve been cleaning for almost five hours. The upstairs looks barely lived in, so it was mostly dusting and vacuuming and such. I washed three loads of bed linens that were stashed in the closet and the ones that were already on the hardly used California King in the master suite. According to Chuck, the headaches get so bad that the only respite is to drink himself to sleep. He usually ends up on the tattered, worn out sofa downstairs. Not anymore, sweetie.

 

The downstairs is a different breed of beast all together. I’ve managed to clean the study (and was promptly chastised for even thinking of touching his workspace) and living room. I started on the kitchen, but I’m too tired to finish it today.

 

He’s making dinner. I’m draped across the sofa complaining to a book that doesn’t care, with a glass of wine on the coffee table. Can we have more days like these?

Not the cleaning, but this? Watching him cook (he’s really good at it for someone that claims to live on takeaway) and writing? Can we spend the rest of our lives just writing together and drinking wine and being happy?

 

I doubt it, but it’s a dream I’ll try to hold on to.  

 

On the subject of dreams, the nightmares haven’t come back. I guess whatever subconscious fear I had that created them has somehow been assuaged. They’ve been replaced by dreams, not good or bad, but not nightmares. It’s mostly just warm colors, like greens and browns, and I wake up feeling at peace. It’s still a bit strange, but I’ll take strange over terrifying any day.  

 

**5/23/08**

It’s taken two days, a slew of cleaning products, and more elbow grease than I thought I had to give, but this house is officially spotless. We’re in serious need of the trash pickup. I tried to scold him for tossing a ball of scrap paper on the office floor. So he tossed it at me instead. We ended up spending the rest of the day wrapped in each other’s arms and blissfully unaware of anything outside our bedroom.

 

**5/28/08**

I want a kitten. I think this house needs a kitten in it. Or a puppy. Or both!

 

**-**

 

Chuck said no to the puppy (they’re too messy and demanding, according to him), but maybe to the kitten. I’m so getting a kitten. I do have a birthday coming up. Maybe I can sweet talk him into getting me a kitty. I already have a name picked out. I want a little girl and I want to name her Hekate.

 

Hekate is the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft. She was also known to shape-shift into the form of a cat, notably to escape Typhon, a monster of exceptional ferocity.


	3. Part Three

**6/1/08**

I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I’ve sent out so many resumes with absolutely no results. I’m losing faith fast. I should have gone to school for something else. Being a writer is hard, especially when no one will hire you to write.

 

Chuck keeps telling me that it’ll work out, and I just need to give it time. He told me last night, as I cried to him about my lack of a job, that no one writes because they want to; we write because we need to. There’s something in us that doesn’t give us a choice. We have a story inside of us that needs to be told and we’re the only ones that can tell it.

 

Dad would have loved him. They’re a lot alike. I guess what they say is true, girls go for guys that remind them of their fathers. Dad always encouraged my love of books and writing. He told that I needed to follow my heart and it would never lead me astray. I doubted myself a lot, still do, but he was always there to tell me how amazing he thought I was. When I doubted my choice in careers (I almost dropped out of college when my first-year composition professor told me I had no talent and lacked any sort of skill) he drove all the way in to see me. I’ll never forget what he told me that night.

 

“If you don’t do what you’re passionate about, Meg, you’ll never be passionate about what you do. You’re a writer. Write.”

 

That was the last time I saw him alive. He never told me he was sick. He never told me goodbye. He just hugged me before he left and made me promise that no matter what happened, I would always stay true to myself and let my heart guide me.

 

Three days later, Dyllan was knocking on my door and yelling at me for making Dad travel. It was my fault his heart gave out, according to my brother. He’s never forgiven me for it. Hell, I still haven't  forgiven myself. Dad would have, though. He always did.

 

Ugh. I’m crying again. It’s been three and a half years. You’d think I’d be past this, but every time I think too long about Dad, I turn into a blubbering mess. It’s late, and I’m trying not to wake Chuck (he’s sleeping on his own with no alcohol for once), but I can barely breathe now.

 

Shit. I think I woke him. Back to bed.

 

**6/4/08**

I got an interview! It’s not the job I wanted, but it’s a foot in the door, right? Right. If I get it, that is.

 

~~_She’ll get it._ ~~

 

Go away. I’m taking this to pee with me from now on. Nothing is sacred anymore apparently.

 

He’s laughing. My angry face means nothing to him.

 

**6/6/08**

The interview went well. Now I’m just waiting on legalities. Background check, drug test, references. Next they’ll want my underwear size. I never expected it to be so invasive for an entry-level position.

 

I really wish my boyfriend would STOP LAUGHING AT ME!

 

**6/18/08**

First day at my new job.

 

I’m so overqualified for this. I’m a grunt and a gopher. I just spent four years of my life studying my ass off to make good grades just so I could get coffee for asshats and pompous idiots.

 

They prepared me for this in classes. It’s damn near impossible to get your dream job when you’re a writer. You’ve got to earn it. Do little things. Put notches on your metaphorical belt.

 

So at least I’ve got a job. No more free loading. I don’t do starving artist well.

 

Chuck’s laughing at me. Again. Not cool, Chuck. Not cool.

 

**6/21/08**

Work is dull. I just want to write, but all I get to do is run errands and get people things. Not even important things. You’d think I applied to be the office PA.

 

Like today. I get there on time (like always) at exactly 9 o’clock, and as soon as I walk in the door I’ve got four people asking me where I’ve been. Before I could even answer, I’ve got lists shoved in my face of all the menial tasks they need me to do for the day.

 

  * Get Coffee
  * Pickup Dry Cleaning
  * Set up an appointment with such-and-such
  * More Coffee
  * Pick this up from here
  * Get lunch (from about five different places, two of which were halfway across town)
  * Take this to the printer
  * Call the maintenance guy about the air conditioning



 

The lists went on.

 

And on.

 

And on.

 

I hate this, but I can’t quit. I never quit. I stubbornly refuse to quit. They will not break me.

 

Leila stopped by the office today, though, so that was a bright point to an otherwise dreary day. She brought me fresh lemon cranberry muffins and a slice of the most delicious chocolate raspberry cheesecake I have ever tasted in my life. Why can’t I cook as well as everyone else in my life seems capable of?

 

Another bright spot, curling up with Chuck after dinner, watching mindless television while he combs his fingers through my hair.

 

**6/30/08**

I am exhausted. I’ve been up since about 4 this morning. Chuck was having one of his writing marathons (they’re getting more and more frequent) and I just couldn’t sleep alone.

 

If I’m really honest, I’m kind of scared to sleep alone. I don’t want the nightmare to come back. He protects me from my own mind, as silly as that sounds.

 

**7/4/08**

We went down to the park to watch the fireworks after I got off of work. Leila met us there with her new girlfriend, Sara. She’s a sweet girl, if a bit young. She’s starting her second year, I think, in the fall. Leila graduated last December.

 

Who am I to judge, though? Love is strange, and even if what they have isn’t love, it’s not my place to say. They’re cute together, and Sara seems to balance Leila out a bit. Overall, I like her. Leila deserves a bit of happiness, after all.  

 

The fireworks were beautiful and the weather was just perfect. We walked home together afterwards, just enjoying the night. Personal fireworks are illegal inside the city, but little kids were running along the sidewalks with sparklers and such.

 

Then Chuck did something that had me falling in love with him all over again. One little girl, maybe six or seven, was sitting alone, watching the others play. Out of nowhere, he produced a pack of sparklers (he told me later when I asked that he’d snagged them for us earlier in the evening and had been saving them until we got home) and lit one. He handed it to the little girl with the brightest smile on his face. Her face lit up and she hugged him and I thought my heart was just going to explode, the whole things was so cute.

 

 

I love this man. I really, truly love this man.

 

**7/5/08**

It’s my birthday! I’m officially 25! And I got a kitten!

 

She’s the cutest, sweetest little bundle of fur. Chuck is too perfect. He knew I was going to name her Hekate, so he got me a shiny, soft little Aegean. She’s got huge blue eyes, the cutest pink nose, and tiny little pink pads on her feet. She keeps yelling at Chuck when he tries to pick her up, but she just snuggles against me and purrs while I scratch behind her ears. I love her. She’s absolutely perfect. (Hekate)

 

**9/25/08**

What the hell just happened?

 

I just saw my father. Living, breathing Dad standing three feet away from me and all he could say was that it was my fault. How? How is it my fault? Why didn’t he tell me he was sick? I’d never have let him drive all the way to Missouri if I’d known.

 

It is my fault, really. He wore himself out, just to make me happy. He was always more focused on Dyllan and I than he ever was on himself. He’d drop everything if we needed him, no questions asked. Why didn’t he tell me?

 

And why the hell is he back? Why now? Was it real or am I just going crazy? I think I might be having a mental break.

 

I’m seriously terrified right now, and Chuck isn’t home and I don’t know what to do. I’ve locked myself in the closet with my journal and a flashlight. I’m not moving until he gets here.

 

**-**

 

I think I’m really losing my mind. Chuck found me asleep in the closet, no sign of Dad anywhere in the house. There was a smell though. It lingered throughout the entire house, leaving everything smelling like damp dirt and decay.

 

**9/26/08**

Chuck’s having nightmares again. I’ve tried to wake him, to coax him out of them, but nothing seems to be working. I’m getting worried about him. They only seem to be getting worse.

 

When he does wake up, he’s shaking and clammy. He’s distant, like he’s still locked inside his own mind. He leaves the bed and disappears downstairs for hours afterwards, locking himself away in his office to write. He doesn’t want to bother me with the ‘click-click’ of the keyboard, he says.

 

Doesn’t he realize that without him, I have nightmares of my own?


	4. Part Four

**10/9/08**

There was a house fire not far from here late last night. Some guy named Jack Montgomery died. It was horrible. There were pictures all over the news this morning and it’s all anyone at work has talked about all day.

 

I just wish people would let it go. This is a personal tragedy, not gossip for the water cooler. If it weren’t for crap like this, this whole morbid love of other’s pain that people seem to latch onto and burrow into like maggots on rotting flesh, I’d have become an investigative journalist.

 

I have issues treating journalism as a sport, though. It’s all about consumerism these days, giving the masses what they want, what keeps them entertained, instead of actually reporting the news.

 

**11/1/08**

It’s that time of year again! Halloween was last night. I forced Chuck to dress up. He decided to go as a classic red devil and I went as a black cat. It was pretty simple, I already had everything I needed except the ears. I made those easily enough. Just some wire, and old headband, and a bit of black fabric, and BAM. Insta-kitty ears. I even made Chuck some cute horns and a tail. He already had red jeans and a red hoodie. We sat on the steps together for hours, just giving out candy and snuggling. It was fun. We had hot mulled cider, which was actually supposed to be for tonight, but I figured a bit wouldn’t hurt.

 

 

Tonight was a different story. Tonight was Samhain. I put out an offering for Dad and put up his picture. It’s times like this, when I’m forced to think about things, when I’m supposed to be accepting and letting go, that it hurts the most.

 

I don’t want to let him go. Chuck says I should, but it feels like I’m betraying him somehow. I’m scared that, if I let him go, I’ll forget about him. It gets harder and harder to remember his voice, or his face. I don’t want to forget him, too.

 

**12/21/08**

I was hoping to celebrate Yule today, but I’m stuck in bed. I woke up with a fever and the worst headache. I knew this would happen. It always happens around this time every year. I get really sick for about a week, then I’m fine until next winter. I’ve been to several doctors, but no one can figure out why it keeps happening. I never get sick any other time of the year. Hell, I’ve never even had a hangover!

 

Anyways, I’m stuck in bed for the next week or so. I’d complain, but Chuck is being such a sweetie. He keeps bring me water and tea and soup. He sings to me, and cuddles with me.

 

Does it make me a bad person for basking in his attention? He’s never been anything less that doting, but this is different. This is a whole new level of affectionate and attentive, bordering on obsessive and neurotic.

 

I love it.

 

**12/24/08**

Someone please make this man go away.

 

He is getting on my last nerve. I can’t sneeze without him asking if I’m alright. I’m a big girl, I’ve been dealing with this for 25 years. I think I can handle it just fine.

 

**-**

 

He’s like a little puppy. I don’t know who is worse, him or Hekate. Neither has left my side for very long and both are trying to kill me, I think, with love. I can’t breath as it is for all this congestion and crap, and I woke up from one of my many, many naps to find Hekate asleep on my face, and Chuck asleep with his head on my chest. I didn’t have the heart to move either of them, so I just went back to sleep.

 

Chuck just woke me up to feed me another bowl of chicken soup. I’d argue, but it’s really good soup and he spoon feeds it to me. That is kinda weird, but I love it. I **might** be a bit of an attention whore. Don’t judge me.

 

**12/26/08**

I’m feeling better, which is nice. I woke up with a sore chest from a week of coughing, and my ribs are probably bruised, but beyond that, I’m fine.

 

Back to work tomorrow it would seem. I wonder if the place has burned down yet without me there to get the fire extinguisher. Guess I’ll just have to wait and find out.

 

**12/27/08**

It’s still standing.

 

**1/1/09**

Our first New Year’s together. We’re both pretty wasted.

 

Dinner, wine, fireworks.

 

Mostly wine though.

 

Shit. Chuck just tripped over his own feet. He’s more drunk than I am. I’m used to wine. He’s used to whiskey.

 

This is amusing. Who needs fireworks when they can watch their drunken boyfriend try to figure out how to put pants on? Hekate didn’t find it nearly so amusing. He stepped on her tail and then almost fell on top of her. Poor kitty.

 

**1/16/09**

Work has gotten better. I’m not longer the office grunt. I’ve moved up. I’m given actual work now.

 

Finally, a chance for my degree to pay off. The raise is nice, too. It’s helps pay off my degree.

 

**1/29/09**

Writing may get sparse. Apparently, I’m now the editing grunt. Twenty pieces to read and edit by Monday. Today is Thursday.

 

Goddess, help me.

 

**2/10/09**

One year ago today I met the man of my dreams.

 

He’s taking me out for dinner tonight. He won’t tell me where we’re going, just that I should dress fancy. His idea of fancy, though, is jeans without holes and a relatively clean shirt, so that doesn’t do much to help.

 

**-**

 

This man better feel lucky as hell. I’m wearing a dress. I don’t wear dresses. Heels, too. Make-up, jewelry, I pulled out all the stops. This better be good.

 

**-**

 

It was definitely good. He took me to The Wine Cellar. They have some of the best food around and feature some of the best wines in the world. Then he took me to a concert, and by concert I mean he took me to see the Saint Louis Philharmonic Orchestra. They were hosting a tribute to Tchaikovsky, and I absolutely adore his work. I almost always chose one of his pieces for my performances in college. I wonder how he knew that. I never told him.

 

It was a perfect night.

 

**2/11/09**

Leila told him of my love for Tchaikovsky. The little snitch.

 

I wonder what else they’ve discussed about me.

 

**2/18/09**

Another large stack of papers to deal with. This time they gave me a whole week. How did I get so lucky?

 

I really wish I could convey written sarcasm a little better.

 

**3/3/09**

This is getting kind of insane.

 

Work is never ending. Chuck’s headaches are getting worse.

 

I’m drowning and there’s no rope to reach for.

 

**4/2/09**

It’s all real.

 

The books Chuck wrote, they’re all real. This day has been insane and awful and amazing all at once.

 

Two guys knocked on the door this morning as I was leaving for work, claiming to be Sam and Dean. Yes, **that** Sam and Dean. I didn’t believe them, and neither did Chuck. At first, anyways. The two were very convincing.

 

It really was them, though.

 

Chuck spent most of the day pretty torn up about the whole event. He thought that because he wrote them, they came to life, like some weird Gepetto/Pinocchio ordeal. That’s not the truth of it, by the way.

 

No, Chuck is a prophet according to an angel named Castiel. A prophet of the Lord, writing what will one day become the Winchester Gospel.

 

Like I said, insane.

 

Then there was the whole ‘Lilith’ thing. That was just so messed up. Poor Sam. He’s had it so rough, and now even his brother doesn’t trust him. I hugged him after that. It was like trying to hug a tree that hugs back. I seriously only came up to the middle of his chest.

 

To make things worse, some angel (he said he was an angel, at any rate) popped into our living room and started threatening Chuck. He had another dream (vision?) and he wants to warn Sam and Dean, but this guy (I think he said his name was Zachariah or something like that) threatened him if he tried.

 

I came close to punching him in the face. I doubt it would have done much damage, but I would have felt better. Chuck threatened to kill himself, and that broke my heart, but the guy told him he’d just bring him back. Apparently not all angels are good. Maybe not all monsters and demons are bad? I’ve never met any, so I really have no basis for comparison, but this guy was just a dick.

 

**4/22/09**

Asshole angels and demons with questionable motives aren’t bad enough.

 

My boss is now a dick, too.

 

He tried to hit on me. Got mad when I shut him down. Now I have to work through the next three weekends.

 

Help? Please? Anybody?

 

**5/14/09**

Things just go from bad to worse.

 

Chuck’s visions have been getting worse. I don’t know what to do to help him, if anything can help him.

 

Sam’s run off with a demon named Ruby to fight Lilith. Dean and Cas showed up a little while ago. Cas stayed behind to keep Chuck and I safe, while Dean chased Sam to Indiana. This is not going to end well.

 

Cas is putting sigils up everywhere in his own blood. I’m not sure what they’re for. I don’t really know why we need protection if Chuck has an archangel watching out for him. Did something happen to the archangel? Who knows. Cas isn’t really saying much.

 

**-**

 

I’m just gonna say this: I hate angels. Castiel, he exploded. So now, not only is my house covered in bloody sigils, it’s covered in the rest of the angel, too. There’s little bits of Cas all over the living room. This is never going to come clean.

 

They scared off Hekate, too. She bolted out the back door and now I can’t find her. I hope my little girl is alright. She better come back soon, or I’ll be ripping wings off.

 

Freaking angels.

 

**5/15/09**

Sam and Dean are in trouble. Chuck wants to help so badly, but we’re both being watched by that asshat Zachariah and his goons. One of them actually follows me to work everyday. I'm tempted to just turn around one day and tell him to screw off, but I don't want to make things any worse for Chuck than they already are. He has enough to deal with, between the headaches, the stress and anxiety, and the compulsive writing.

 

He's cracking, I think. It's killing me to see him like this.

 

He did the only thing he could think to do. He reached out to someone that could help. I understand that he didn't have much choice, but why didn't have to be her?

 

Becky Rosen.

 

Samlicker81.

 

I feel so bad for Sam. He has no idea what is heading his way.

 

**-**

 

Bobby Singer is my new hero. I need to meet him. He stabbed himself with a demon blade to exorcise the demon that was controlling him. That's just badass.

 

The boys are alright. Chuck just got off of the phone with Dean.

 

Lucifer is free. We are now living on the edge of the apocalypse. Things are about to get very difficult and I'm sure Chuck’s problem is about to get worse.

 

I've never been so scared in my life. How are we going to get through this? Are we even supposed to get through this?

 

**5/20/09**

Hekate came home. She was filthy and smelly and covered in fleas, but she’s home. I gave her a bath, and she must have known how badly she needed it, because she didn’t put up a fight at all.

 

She’s snuggled up with Chuck on the sofa now. It’s cute, the way they pretend to hate each other.

 

**6/4/09**

Work, work, work. All I do is work. I’m trying to help the boys, too. It’s not going as great as I had hoped it would.

 

The next month is going to be hectic. Between Sam and Dean, work, and Chuck (because I needed something else in my life) I’m not going to have much free time. I’m working at the office six days a week because my boss is a slimebag. He’s still sore I told him no. He’s lucky I didn’t report him. Or let Chuck have his way with the whole thing.

 


	5. Part Five

**7/5/09**

Becky called. Ugh.

 

She’s putting together a convention in Ohio and wants Chuck to speak.

 

She just had to call on my birthday, didn’t she?

 

**-**

 

Chuck made it better. He bought me cake. I told him I didn’t want anything for my birthday, and he believed me. He wasn’t even going to get me a cake until the she-troll called. He knows how much I hate her.

 

**7/26/09**

I swear to the gods, if she touches him one more time, I’m going to rip her head from her shoulders and feed it to a hellhound. I’d feel bad for the hound, though. It would probably get sick.

 

I didn’t want to come to this damn convention, and I know Chuck didn’t, but he said he felt obligated and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him come alone. He’s being backed by some anonymous donor to put out more books and he couldn’t say no to the publicity (regardless of how small said publicity is).

 

Becky Rosen was bad enough through a computer screen two months ago. Seeing her in person is headache inducing, and having to deal with her throwing herself at Sam (he’s not interested!) is just revolting. It’s like she has no self-respect. Given the option, I’m pretty sure she’d try to rape the man.

 

Let’s hope she never gets her hands on a love potion. Cerce only knows what she’d do with it. Poor Sam, he has no clue the threat he faces in that tiny, perky blonde annoyance.

 

I wanted to trip her, make her take a tumble down the stairs, but Chuck made me swear to behave. He knows how I feel about her and his advice? Ignore her. She’s as easy to ignore as a herd of rampaging flamingos.

 

She’s already started her crap and the convention has only been going for a few hours. No one supplies my man with drinks but me. She gives him one more cocktail, and I’m forcing the entire stock of vodka and whiskey down her throat. Shake, don’t stir, and see how well those mix. She’d spend the rest of the weekend in her room, curled around her toilet and praying to whoever will listen to just kill her already.

 

~~_Don’t even think about it. She’s not harming anything. Just leave her alone and ignore her._ ~~

 

Easy for you to say. All she does is stroke your ego and Sam’s biceps.

 

He just gave me **the look**. I’ll stop. For now.

 

**-**

 

Naturally, this place in actually haunted. Well, was haunted. The boys took care of it. Chuck took care of me. Just like he always promises he will. He got so mad, I swear the entire planet stood still for a moment. It was terrifying and mesmerizing. That spark of adrenaline that usually shoots through me when he goes all alpha-male has me a bit shaky, but otherwise I’m fine.

 

Becky keeps looking at him like he’s fresh meat all of a sudden. I want to hurt her. I’d only go to prison if they find the body. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind helping me with that little problem.

 

Chuck says I can’t kill her and hide the body. He never lets me have any fun.

 

It’s fine, though. Let her look, so long as she’s crystal clear in understanding that she will **never** have him. Never. If she even tries to pull that shit, I will straight up kick her toothpick ass. I do not play that game. What’s mine is mine, and she can just back off.

 

Why does he always laugh when I get angry?

 

8/13/09

I think Chuck might be cheating on me. There’s not really any evidence, and he’s not exactly staying out late or sneaking in in the middle of the night or making random ‘grocery runs.’

 

But there are texts. A lot of them. All from **her.** Why can’t Becky Rosen just get out of my life and stay out? I know it's her. She has a different ringtone than everyone else. Its perky, and happy, and cute enough make me sick. **I** don’t even have a special ringtone in his phone. No one does.

 

Except for Becky.

 

I haven’t said anything to him about it. What if it’s nothing and I’m just being paranoid?

 

But what if it’s something?

 

I’ve read a few of them when he wasn’t paying attention. They’re getting more and more personal. It started out with her asking him random questions about the fandom, about the series and possible updates.

 

Now it's things like this.

 

_Becky <3: Dinner? _

 

_Becky <3: Why don’t we meet? Have a little fun? _

 

_Becky <3: She dsn’t deserve u. Not like me. I’d worship u. I’d treat u the way u deserve to be treated. _

 

I treat him like a real, normal person, but that’s not what he deserves? I’m not going to treat him like royalty. He was Chuck Shurley long before he was Carver Edlund and he hates being treated like he’s something special. I know. I’ve tried.

 

He never replies to them, but he hasn’t deleted them, or her.

 

I don’t want to lose him. What am I supposed to do?

 

**8/19/09**

More texts. Does this girl ever sleep?

 

His phone’s going off at all hours. I’m seriously thinking of filing harassment charges.

 

**8/22/09**

Seriously. He’s not interested. He’s taken. Give up. Go away. Go die!

 

In the last week? 76 texts from her to him. In six days.

 

**8/28/09**

_Becky <3: I can get rid of her 4 u if u cant bring urself to do it. _

_Becky <3: ur too good for her. Ur 2 nice 2 even kick her out. _

_Becky <3: Im waiting 4 u baby. _

 

**9/6/09**

Now she’s texting me. I’m losing my patience. Why doesn’t he just tell her to go away?

 

He does realize this is harassment and borderline stalking, right?

 

**9/12/09**

_Becky <3: Dont worry. We’ll be tgthr soon. _

_Becky <3: Its alright. Take ur time. I’ll wait 4 u. _

_Unknown Number: Why wont u take a hint? he dsnt want u. Ur not good enough for my chucky. Just leave him alone. Let him b happy. He isnt happy w/ u. Ur boring and selfish. Walk away or i wont give u a choice._

 

**9/15/09**

I’m so done with this. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve changed my number, but she keeps finding me anyways.

 

**9/24/09**

It’s been over a month since the texts started and they’re only getting worse. Somehow she’s gotten my number now, too, and I keep getting angry texts, demanding I step down, telling me I need to let a real woman have a shot with him, calling me all sorts of things. I haven’t told Chuck, but I think I probably should. I can’t take it anymore.

 

He tries to keep it from me, like it’s not a big deal, but I’ve gone through the texts while he’s sleeping, or when he leaves the house and forgets his phone. I know I shouldn’t be snooping, and I feel awful for doing it, but he’s hiding it from me for a reason. If it wasn’t a big deal, he would have brought it up already. If it wasn’t a big deal, he wouldn’t be keeping the texts. He’d have deleted her number and blocked her already.

 

I hate to say it, but I’ve lost my trust in him.

 

**-**

 

I asked him about the texts and about Becky. All he could say was that it was nothing and to ignore her. That’s all he ever says about her. I can’t ignore her when she’s constantly spamming my inbox with hate mail and texting my boyfriend. I told him as much.

 

‘Leave it,’ he said. That’s it. Leave it. What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m not leaving anything. The longer this goes, the more convinced I am that he’s not being honest with me.

 

**-**

 

He walked out. I asked him if he was sleeping with her and he just walked out. No yelling, no argument, nothing. He just looked at me like I was a stranger, like he had never seen me before, grabbed his coat and his keys, and just left.

 

That was hours ago. It’s pouring down rain and the power’s out. I haven’t heard a word from him. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he’s with her right now?

 

Is this my fault? Have I been so focused on myself that I’ve made him feel like this was an option? I know I’ve been busy. I’m trying to help research, to find a way to help Sam and Dean. I have a full-time job. I can’t be everything for everyone all of the time. I should have tried harder, though. I deserve this.

 

It feels like my heart’s been ripped out of my chest, rolled around in broken glass, and shoved back down my throat. I can’t stop crying. I’ve texted him and called him, but he’s not answering.

 

What if we’re over?

 

Sweet Cerce, what have I done? How could I think that Chuck would ever cheat on me? That’s not the man he is. I’m an idiot, and now I’ve lost him.

 

I tried to call Leila, just to have someone to talk to, but she didn’t answer. I didn’t leave a message. If she’s too busy to answer her phone, it’s more important than my relationship drama.

 

I think I’m just going to drink a bottle of wine and go to bed.

 

**-**

 

_I shouldn’t be doing this, but you’re sleeping and you left your journal open on my desk. You’re curled up on the sofa, wrapped in one of my hoodies, and it’s breaking my heart to see how sad you are, even asleep._

 

_I never cheated on you. I never would. The fact that you thought I could tells me there’s something wrong with our relationship. It’s not your fault though, so stop blaming yourself, Meghan. I know you are. I don't have to read it to know. You always blame yourself._

 

_It’s my fault. I’ve been pulling away, focusing on everything else. I figured, if you weren’t so close to me, if I pushed you away and made you hate me, or love me less, you might not get hurt. I’m scared. Terrified, really. I might not make it out of this. There’s no way of knowing what’s going to happen, even for me. I only see what they want me to see, and it’s not my story._

 

_I am so sorry for ever letting you feel like this, Meghan. I’ve been foolish, and selfish, and stupid. Becky means nothing to me. She never has._

 

_You are my world, and I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. Never doubt that._

 

**9/25/09**

I don’t know what to say to that. I’m not even bothered that he read my journal. At least now he gets how I feel, and I get how he feels.

 

I think we’re alright now. I woke up in bed. He was asleep on the couch. I found what he wrote and ended up waking him with my blubbering. I feel like an idiot for ever doubting  him. I don’t know why he doesn’t hate me for it.

 

We had a long talk about things. Becky was one of them. He thought ignoring her would make her go away. If I’d just told him that she’d been harassing me, he’d have dealt with the issue before things got so bad. SHE changed her contact name, and her ringtone, when he wasn’t paying attention at the convention. He didn’t change it or delete it because he had no clue how and he didn’t ask me to do it because he’s a stubborn man that can’t admit he doesn’t know how to work a crappy flip phone.

 

We talked about Lucifer and the apocalypse and everything surrounding that. He knows he can’t protect me from everything, and pushing me away wouldn’t have done any good. I’m too stubborn to let things go. Especially him.

 

We’re good now. We’ve spent the entire day together, just us, no distractions.

 

I really do think we’re going to be alright.  

 

**9/30/09**

Everything I’ve ever know is a lie. He lied to me. I cannot believe Chuck lied to me. Especially about something like this. How am I supposed to react? What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say?

 

And the way he said it, like he was commenting on the weather. How? I don’t understand any of this.

 

Chuck Shurley, the man I’ve been dating and living with and loving for the past year and nine months, is God. Not a figurative god, not some half-concocted deity. God. As in, God. THE God. Seven days and seven nights, sent a flood to destroy humanity, let there be light, GOD.

 

I have no clue how I’m supposed to feel now. I still love him, but was it ever real? Did he make me love him? If he did, then why? He’s God. I’m a witch. That’s not really a match made in Heaven. Shit. Pun not intended.

 

I guess I can see why he kept it a secret, though. If I were some primordial, all-powerful being, I wouldn’t want it advertised either. Still, after everything we’ve been through, he should have told me instead of waiting for me to find out on my own. Not even on my own, because who the hell wakes up one morning and thinks, ‘Hey, I think I’m dating GOD!’

 

No one, that’s who.

 

No, his sons had to share that little tidbit with me. Some of them, at any rate. Gabriel (the freaking archangel. He’s smaller than I expected, but very loud), Balthazar, and Castiel. I already knew Cas, he’s a sweetie if a bit dim at times. They made a mess of my kitchen and then called me ‘mom.’

 

MOM.

 

Really? Do I look that old? I’m only 26.

 

**-**

 

He apologized. We sat down and had a lengthy discussion while the boys cleaned my kitchen from floor to ceiling. It’s all shiny now.

 

He explained everything as best he could. Apparently he didn’t know he was God. At least, he didn’t remember it until Cas showed up a couple of days ago. Castiel has some amulet that was made to seek out God (he’s been missing a while I guess?) and when Cas called him ‘Father’ it triggered something inside him. He said it was like a dam opened up and the entire universe flooded into his mind.

 

He assured me that he never used any powers to make me feel for him what I feel and I believe him. How could he use them if he didn’t know he had them?

 

Hekate bit him in defense of my honor. I felt bad, but he did kind of deserve it. Everything is good now, for the moment at least. I don’t know if our relationship can handle another fight like that whole ‘Becky’ ordeal.

 

Just thinking about that has me realizing that I still love him, and I never want to lose him. Besides, how many women can say they’re with God? One. Me.

 

I’ll take it.

 

**10/03/09**

Leila knows. Sara, too.

 

I may have let it slip when I mentioned I might be pregnant.

 

Neither of them believed me at first. I can’t blame them. If I hadn’t known half the things I know, like angels and demons and the Winchesters all being real, I wouldn’t have believed me either.

 

She also know about all of that. She knows everything, really. I trust her explicitly and if I’m allowed to let anyone in on the secret, it’s going to be Leila.

 

At least I don’t have to tiptoe anymore. That was more stressful than having to worry about Zachariah and his lot. I’m so glad they’re gone, by the way. I owe Dean a pie for that.

 

**10/05/09**

The apocalypse is over. All that fuss and pomp and circumstance, all that coercing and wing-twisting. For what?

 

Chuck put them both in time out. It was hilarious.

 

**10/14/09**

Chuck’s freaking out. It wouldn’t be so funny if I didn’t know that he was God. It’s not like this is his first child.

 

Maybe it's because it’s his first ‘human’ child? Yes, the angels call him ‘Father’ but he’s more their creator, right?

 

Oh, yeah. I’m pregnant. Gabriel made a joke of it that first day I met him, saying they’d come to say hello to their newest baby brother. I thought he was joking.

 

His words have been playing in my mind for the last two weeks, though, and I just couldn’t shake the feeling. So I stopped by the store on my way home, grabbed a couple of pregnancy tests. I took three of them.

 

What? I had to be sure it wasn’t a fluke.

 

He was not joking, as it turns out. I don’t know how this happened. I’ve been taking birth control religiously since I was 22. I’ve never missed a shot. Not one.

 

I guess everything has a chance of failure.

 

Would it be too much to assume that maybe Fate played a part? Like maybe this was meant to happen? I’m not sure.

 

He is seriously freaking out. He keeps running his fingers through his hair and looking at me like I’ve grown a second head or something. He’s muttering under his breath and I’m pretty sure he’s going to start hyperventilating any second now.

 

I mean, yeah, okay, I had a minute where I was pretty sure the entire world just stopped. Holding that inconspicuous little white stick, that little pink plus sign glaring up at me like it was judging me or something. Then I got over it. I accepted it because honestly, what else could I do?

 

Now he’s looking at me like I’m made of gold.

 

And we’re back to freaking out. He just walked out of the room, walked back in, gave me that look that said ‘you’re crazy’ and walked out again.

 

**-**

 

I’m not sure if he’s alright now or not. He disappeared for a while, and came back with all of my favorite foods in tow. I’m talking **all** of them. Chinese, Japanese, barbecue, Indian, ice cream, cake, pie. Does he expect me to eat it all or what? I’m pregnant, not feeding a third world country.

 

**-**

 

I’m glad he got all of that food. The boys showed up, so we had plenty of mouths to feed. We haven’t told Sam and Dean yet. They have enough going on.

 

I got to meet Bobby though, and it was pretty awesome. He’s in a wheelchair, or at least he was. Chuck felt bad about what happened and just healed him. Not sure if that’s allowed but he’s God, so who’s really going to argue with him?

 

They do know that much, by the way. That Chuck is God. Blame Castiel for that one. He just couldn’t keep it to himself. He’s like a hyper bumblebee when he gets excited and you just can’t keep him still. Or quiet.

 

I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.  

 

**10/20/09**

Chuck is being weird.

 

Not like his normal weird, but like, twitchy weird. He jumps when I enter the room, and he keeps stuttering and gaping at me like a fish on dry land.

 

He’s keeping something from me.

 

God is a nervous liar.

 

He’s planning something. I’m a little afraid to find out exactly what that something might be.

 

**10/26/09**

Dear sweet Cerce, Chuck just proposed.

 

I said yes, obviously. I’d be an idiot not to. I love him. Then there’s the whole ‘I’m carrying his unborn child’ bit. That may have factored in to the decision.

 

He got me the prettiest ring, no diamonds thankfully.

 

See? Some men do listen.

 

It’s double banded twisty black gold with an emerald in the middle, flanked by smaller emeralds and amethysts on either side, like a flower and leaves. It’s absolutely perfect and unique and beautiful.

 

I think Leila may have had a hand in picking it out, but I’m not going to complain about that.

 

**10/31/09**

This dream of mine is getting stranger. It’s become more solid, more tangible. I can almost feel the swirling colors.

 

It’s still peaceful, but it’s also a bit foreboding. There’s something hidden inside it, something I can’t quite place.

 

There’s a secret in my dreams and I can’t figure out what it is. This makes me nervous.


	6. Part Six

**11/3/09**

I don’t know what’s happening to me. I think I might be going crazy.

 

I was out in the back yard earlier, just trying to get a bit of fresh air, and everything went from dead or dying to vibrant and beautiful in a blink. I’d blame Chuck, but he wasn’t home. It was just me and this little unborn bean inside me.

 

That’s what Gabriel called it when he saw the snapshot of our first ultrasound. He said it looked like a little bean. Balthazar agreed and now they’ve named it Bean. Something tells me this is going to be a lifelong annoyance for my future child.

 

The angels are convinced it’s going to be a boy, but not me. I know it’s going to be a girl. She’ll be perfect, too. She’ll have Chuck’s eyes, and curls, but they’ll be sandy like my hair. If she’s very lucky, she’ll get his height. I maxed out at 5’2” and the short life is not easy. Cabinets are too high, you can’t reach the tops of things, and everyone has a cliched joke to make.

 

I digress.

 

I feel different somehow, and it’s not just the fact that I’m pregnant. That’s got something to do with it, I’m sure, but it’s not all of it. It’s like there’s this energy inside of me. It reminds me of all of the times I’ve seen Chuck get angry. Those spikes of adrenaline that I would have when he made the ground quake with his wrath (now that I know it was actually happening, I can call it what it really was). Only it’s stronger, and it’s not going away.

 

**11/04/09**

There’s this tree in the back yard, it’s all dead and rotting, barely standing. At least, it was dead and rotting and barely standing.

 

Now it’s healthy and thriving, its roots dug deep into the soil and its branches dressed in thick, rich green leaves. It’s almost winter.

 

All I did was brush against it.

 

What the hell is going on?

 

**-**

 

Chuck came home and I showed him the tree. He wasn’t as surprised as I expected him to be. He left again, saying he’d be back soon. What’s my dear fiance up to, I wonder.

 

**11/05/09**

Chuck still isn’t back yet. Where did he go?

 

Heaven?

 

The Winchesters?

 

I’ve been texting him. I asked him what was wrong. He hasn’t responded.

 

I tried to call him, but it went to voicemail. He’s got it turned off or it’s out of service.

 

Does Heaven get cell signal?

 

**11/06/09**

I am not human. I can’t be. How the hell am I doing this? Are the angels messing with me? Are they trying to make me lose my mind?

 

If so, it’s working.

 

Chuck’s still out there, somewhere. Why won’t he answer me?

 

Little bean is keeping me on my toes. One minute I’ve got the worst heartburn, the next I’m starving, then I’m sick. I can’t win with this child.

 

**11/08/09**

Gaea

Terra

Aditi

Bhumi

Fjorgyn

Cel

 

They’re all the same. Earth.

 

Me.

 

Chuck came back late last night. Or early this morning, I guess. He seemed nervous and anxious and excited.

 

He said he had to be sure, that’s why he left. He had to be sure. I don’t know what that means, but the moment he came back, I knew something had changed. He was happy, and sad, and a million other things, and I could feel every single emotion as it flitted across his face. He touched a hand to my chest and for a long time, all of existence stood still. A million images from a million points in time flowed through me, and you’d think it would be too much, too overwhelming. It wasn’t.

 

I’ve always felt, in the back of my mind, that there was something different about me. I wasn’t like other kids. I was always serious and sure and determined. I always cared more about others than I did about myself. I always took on the role of ‘mother’ to my friends. I just figured it was because I never had one.

 

Instead, it was because I am one. I’m **THE** one.

 

My soul, Chuck said, wasn’t made by him. My soul was as old as his. I don’t know what to make of that.

 

He thinks my powers (I have powers. This is crazy!) are manifesting because of the bean. The world is going to hell all around us, and this is my body’s way of protecting our little one. Somehow, I know he’s right. I can feel it.

 

I am the Goddess.

 

Having spent so long as a witch, it’s kind of amusing to think I’ve basically been worshiping myself all of these years, but there it is. Is it narcissistic if I didn’t know about it?  

 

**11/30/09**

I feel like all I do is eat, bitch, pee, and sleep. I fell asleep at my desk yesterday. Woke up with ink all over my face from the papers I was working  on, and my peppermint tea was ice cold.

 

Fell asleep on the sofa before dinner. And again as soon as dinner was over.

 

How Chuck puts up with me, I’ll never know.

 

I actually cursed at him for waking me up to take me upstairs. I felt bad a second later, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen again. I miss my morning coffee, that blessed brew that makes me almost human most days.

 

**12/17/09**

I’m sick, and not just the sick I usually get. This one’s new and improved. They call it morning sickness, but I don’t know why. All day. If I smell sausage, I vomit. Thankfully, Chuck threw it all out last night. It was getting to the point where I’d gag just from seeing it in the fridge.

 

At least now I know why I’d always get sick come winter. I’m a bit scared that my illness will hurt the baby, but the doctor assures us that everything should be just fine. It’s growing well, our little one. Almost three months now. Chuck sleeps with his hand over my stomach every night, protecting our baby, letting it feel his presence. He talks to it all of the time, and I’d be jealous of all the attention, except that it’s the cutest thing I think I have ever seen in my life.

 

He’s taking good care of us both. We’re so very lucky, my bean and me. Very lucky, indeed.

 

**1/04/10**

Planning a wedding is hard enough, I’m sure, without having to run to the bathroom every five minutes to pee or vomit. Little bean is already driving me crazy and it isn’t even born yet.

 

Not to mention the heartburn. Constant, unending heartburn. Nothing helps. At all. I thought this was supposed to be a miracle, the magic of carrying life. It’s more like a curse. There’s no end to the new ways my unborn child can torture me, it would seem.

 

I need a nap.

 

**1/12/10**

Invites are sent out.

 

Chuck says he’s taking care of the food.

 

Balthazar is officiating.

 

Gabriel, Cas, Sam, and Dean are groomsmen.

 

Leila and Sara are bridesmaids.

 

Leila’s taking care of the cake.

 

I’ve already got my dress (let’s just hope it still fits in a month).

 

Venue and honeymoon are both taken care of.

 

All that’s left to do is show up.

 

**1/16/10**

Morning sickness abounds. I’m told this is supposed to taper off after the first trimester, but it doesn’t feel like it’s going anywhere. The doctor gave me pills to help, but they just make it worse. Hold that thought.

 

**-**

 

I think I may have just hurled up my entire stomach.

 

Now I’m hungry.

 

Chuck, sweetie, love of my life, if you’re listening to my prayers, **screw you**.

 

**2/10/10**

Chuck and I have been together two years today. Rather, we met two years ago today. Now it’s going to be all the more special.

 

Today is our wedding day.

 

I’m terribly nervous. I know I shouldn’t be. We’ve practically been an old married couple for two years.

 

We’re doing things a bit different than most. Not many have angels as their groomsmen, after all, or as their officiator. We’ve kept the gathering small, or as small as we could manage.

 

Sam and Dean, Cas, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Gabriel, Balthazar, Leila, and Sara. I invited Dyllan, but he sent the invite back in pieces with a note that said to ‘Go To Hell.’ Guess I won’t be letting him in on Bean. He doesn’t deserve to know, according to Leila, and I’m inclined to agree. He’s a dick and I’m better off without him in my life. Besides, I’ve got the best family in the world.

 

As Bobby says, family don’t end in blood. This is the family I chose, and yeah, we’re all a bit messed up somehow or another, but we’re family and we love one another. That’s all that matters at the end of the day.

 

We’ve chosen an out of the way place in Wyoming called White Fish. We both added our own touch to things. It might be winter in the rest of the world, but it’s the middle of spring within a five mile radius of the cabin. Flowers are blooming, the grass is fresh and soft, the air is warm and crisp. It’s absolutely perfect.

 

A friend of Bobby’s has a cabin and he’s letting us use it for the honeymoon. It’s really just a way for us to be alone for a while. It’s warded. No angels, no demons, no monsters, or crises. No work, no writing.

 

Just us. Together.

 

Leila helped me pick out the dress. It’s simple, cream-colored silk and chiffon in a Grecian style. He calls me his Gaea, so I figured it was fitting. I had to have Leila help me with letting out a few seams. It seems I’m not going to get to keep my girlish figure for long. Wait, I never had one. We’re good. I’m barefoot of course. He’ll be barefoot, too, and wearing a cream linen suit.

 

**-**

 

The wedding went perfectly. It was simple and short and us. Just as it should have been. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. The food was amazing (I didn’t ask where it came from, I just ate it) and Leila made the cake.

 

Three tiered vanilla cake with orange mousse filling, and thick white buttercream icing. She covered it with green buttercream vines and bright buttercream flowers and on top was a handmade white chocolate topper of Chuck and me.

 

I can go from ravenous to stuffed in a heartbeat. Then repeat in half an hour, but it’s worth it. Everything is so delicious.  

 

Everyone’s gone now. I’m sitting on the back porch, watching it snow while I write. I won’t be making any entries while we’re here. We both promised not to write a single word until we got back home.

 

I’m getting bigger, and little Bean is doing well. I was a bit worried that the stress of the day would be too much, but everything went smoothly. For now, that’s all I’ll ask for.

 

**2/20/10**

All I can say, is that this man must love me something fierce. I wake him up at all hours to get me the strangest foods, and he does so without complaint.

 

This morning, 3:45am, I poked him in the eye with my elbow (not on purpose, but it woke him up, so hey, why not?) and asked him to get me a milkshake and a pickle. He came back with a pickle milkshake.

 

The other day, it was sushi and a cheeseburger. Together. Spicy tuna roll, cheese, and meat between two toasted buns. I’m not ashamed to say that it was delicious. I may have another one. Or twenty. Just depends.

 

**3/09/10**

It’s a girl.

 

I had to point that out to Gabriel several times before he believed me. Kept saying I was just messing with him.

 

She’s healthy, and growing as she should be.

 

Chuck and I are trying to think of a first name. He let me have Lorrin as a middle name, for Dad. His name was Lawrence, and I need to have at least that little part of him here. I need for him to be a part of this, even if he can’t be here.

 

Would it be selfish of me to ask Chuck to bring him back? Can that be my late wedding present? I’d never ask him for anything ever again.

 

What am I thinking? That’s ridiculous.

 

The dead should stay dead.

 

Besides, it wouldn’t be fair. If he brings Dad back, he’d have to bring back John, and Mary, and everyone else.

 

**3/19/10**

No rest for the divine, I suppose. Between work and trying to get everything ready for the baby, and trying to take care of Chuck, I’m going crazy.

 

He’s only been sick one other time since we met, and that was because of the visions and the headaches. Those are gone now.

 

He’s got some kind of bug. I guess having a human body sucks for everyone. At least he knows how the rest of us feel.

 

**3/26/10**

Chuck is doing much better. He didn’t leave the bed for the better part of a week and when he did, he just about passed out. I don’t know what he had, and neither does he, but I hope he never gets it again.

 

He cares for me when I’m sick, but I never asked him to do so. I care for him while he’s sick because he becomes a whiny, needy, clingy man-child with a mommy complex.

 

I love him to death, but I may end up killing him if he ever gets sick like that again.

 

**4/1/10**

Gabriel missed the memo. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Either way, Chuck’s pissed.

 

We went out for lunch (it was delicious. I can’t get enough of these spicy tuna roll burgers!) and when we came back there was a moose in our living room with a very angry looking squirrel between his antlers.

 

I thought the angel was joking when he called them Sam and Dean.

 

He wasn’t.

 

They’re back to normal now, and Gabriel is sporting a nasty black eye, but it’s not like he didn’t deserve it.

 

He can’t heal it himself and Chuck is refusing to do it for him. Even angels, he said, have free will. Make your choices and accept the consequences that follow.

 

It was a good ‘fatherly’ moment.

 

I doubt Gabe learned a lesson, though. We shall see.

 

**4/25/10**

The nursery’s done. It’s fairly neutral. Neither of us care for pink or blue. We went with neutral creams and browns. Earthy colors that wouldn’t be too overwhelming for our little one. It’s light and airy and absolutely perfect.

 

I’m the size of a small house now. At least, it feels that way most days. She’s kicking almost constantly now, and Chuck never gets tired of pushing my shirts up to press a hand or a kiss to my stomach.

 

He’s just so adorable. I wonder if the angels were ever babies. Did they have tiny, downy wings and chubby little bodies? I bet they were adorable.

 

She just kicked my stomach into my lungs and I’m pretty sure my heart is somewhere near my brain now. My back popped and you’d think I was falling apart the way Chuck looked at me.

 

Just a few more months.

 

**5/11/10**

I can hardly walk anymore.

 

I’ve been forced to take maternity leave over a month early. My ankles are so swollen, not that I can see them, and sitting or standing for too long is painful.

 

Chuck has been the best throughout this whole thing, pampering me and doting on me. Meanwhile, I’ve been a total bitch to him. I feel awful about it, but I can’t control my mood anymore. One minute, the only thing I can think about is being snuggled against him, breathing him in. The next, I don’t even want him in the same room as me.

 

Gabriel and Cas pop in every few days or so, help out a bit. Leila has been a godsend (pun possibly intended). She’s brought me strange foods, and books, and sweets that I’m not really supposed to have. She’s helped out around the house. She even yelled at me the other day for yelling at Chuck.

 

How did I get so lucky to have so many amazing people in my life?

 

**5/28/10**

We had a bit of a scare. I woke up in pain and Chuck rushed me to the hospital.

 

It was just a false labor, but I’m confined to bedrest (like I can go anywhere else anyways) until my due date. If our little bean doesn’t make an appearance by then, they’re going to induce.

 

This is all getting so real. How am I supposed to be a mother? I never had one, I have no clue what to do. I’ve never even held a baby before.

 

Chuck and Leila both keep laughing at me for my fears. They tell me it’ll come to me when I need it to. Leila pointed out that I’ve been mothering her for almost six years. Never one to be outdone, Chuck tossed in the fact that I’ve been mothering him and all of the boys from the start.

 

I guess they’re not wrong, but I still feel like this is more than I can handle. What if I’m a bad mother? It’s not like I really have anyone to look to for inspiration.

 

**-**

 

Ellen just called. She’s going to be staying with us for a few weeks after the baby is born. She’s insisting.

 

I’m pretty sure Chuck called her, or maybe Leila did. Either way, I’m grateful. Ellen is a good woman, she’s strong and smart. She raised Jo, and she’s taken on Sam and Dean and Bobby. I have no doubt that she can help me in caring for my little bean.

 

**6/12/10**

Ellen moved in today. She’s taking the spare bedroom down the hall. She cooked dinner, cleaned up, and told Chuck that if he didn’t sit the hell down and focus on his expecting wife, she’d make sure it was the last child he ever had. Suddenly he’s massaging my feet and humming until I pass out.

 

I love this woman.

 

**6/20/10**

We’re going to be leaving for the hospital soon. Chuck is getting everything into the car. Neither Gabriel not Ellen has left my side in the last hour and I’m starting  to feel claustrophobic from all of the attention. Sam, Dean, and Bobby will be in tomorrow, hopefully in time to see the little one before visiting hours are over. Cas is pacing with Hekate in his arms, looking like a crazy cat lady (angel? man?). Balthazar is raiding Chuck’s liquor cabinet, but that’s not really new.

 

Cerce, I hope everything goes well. I’m nervous as hell. At least I know that, if something does happen to me, and I pray that nothing does, she’ll have the best family in the world to take care of her.

 

Time to go.

 

**6/21/10**

This will be the final entry in this journal. It’s gotten rather full over the past two years. I don’t know if I’ll start another one or not. I don’t think I’m going to have much time for myself for quite some time, and I’m perfectly alright with that.

 

I know one day, you’ll find this, little one. I’m not sure if there are any lessons to be learned that you won’t already know, but I do hope it at least provides you with something valuable. A bit of your history, perhaps.

 

Happy birthday, my dear child. You were born today at 7am on the dot. Your father thinks he’s being witty about things. You weigh exactly 7 pounds and 7 ounces. You’re healthy and beautiful and absolutely perfect.

 

It’s Midsummer. You couldn’t have chosen a better time to greet the world. I don’t know if many children will ever be able to say angels held witness to their birth, but you can. Your father was here the whole time, Gabriel, Balthazar, and Cas, too. Gabriel just had to go and blow that damn horn of his. He sent all of Heaven into a tizzy with that, and then had the nerve to sit back and laugh.

 

Keep an eye on that one, my love. He’s your big brother, but he’s also known as the Trickster for a reason.

 

He’ll look out for you, though. They all will. You’re the youngest, and that means something. I think even Lucifer himself would gush over you, you’re such a precious thing.  

 

Everyone made it. Sam, Dean, Bobby, Ellen, they all held you and worshiped you. Bobby looked like a proud grandfather, and I guess that makes sense. I’ve hardly known him a year, but he’s filled the part of my life that Dad left behind.

 

Chuck seemed sad that he couldn’t get Dad here. I tried to tell him that it was fine, that I understood, but I think he knew that I wasn’t being entirely honest. Out of everything I’ve done in my life, seeing you is the one thing I truly wish he could have done. He would have loved you so much, Ava.

 

I don’t know what you’ll inherit. Powers, wings, grace; your possibilities are endless. Even your father doesn’t know what will happen.

 

I wish you could see the way he looks at you, like **YOU** hung the moon and the stars, and still they pale in comparison. You’re less than a day old, and you’ve already got him wrapped around your tiny fingers. I’m hardly one to talk, though. I’d give you the whole of the Earth if you ever had need of it.

 

I don’t know what the future holds, or what catastrophes await our family and the rest of the world, but I do know this: we’ll get through it all together.

 

No matter what, you will be cared for. You will never know the fear of being alone, and you will never know the pain of abandonment. You will always be loved, Avacyn Lorrin Shurley.

 

Never forget that.

 

You will always be loved.

 

**~~~**

 

It was several hours before the trio was found, curled around one another on the sofa. Gabriel snored softly, his head resting against Balthazar’s shoulder. Balthazar had one arm draped over the back of the sofa, his head lolled back against it. Ava was snuggled against his side, her head resting against his chest while Gabriel’s arm was wrapped tight around her midsection.

 

“Should we wake them?” Meghan asked, looking at the three with a fondness she reserved only for her family. She had grown into her powers, and into her role. She had become every bit  the fierce, protective mother she’d always been meant to be. The petite brunette had thanked Ellen many times over the last six years for giving her the push she needed.

 

She had been terrified of being left alone with Ava after she was born. She’d been so certain that she would mess everything up, that she would ruin the perfect little angel they had created. Ellen hadn’t given her much choice. Bobby had broken his arm on a hunt and she had to go back to Sioux Falls to care for her husband. Meghan had been forced to accept things in that moment, and instead of taking the path of her own mother (she’d sworn to herself that she would never abandon her children, should she be fortunate enough to have them) she had stepped up, squared her shoulders, and become the Mother of All that she was born to be.

 

Now, she could silence angels with a look. She’d cut down the King of Hell a time or two without batting an eye, and had gone several rounds with the ‘witch’ Rowena on the topic of her son and his manners. Meghan was rather proud of the fact that the most powerful beings on earth were afraid of her wrath, and that included her dear husband. Not many could admit to having God under their thumb.

 

“Nah. Let ‘em sleep. They’re too cute, and quiet, to wake them up.” Chuck took a step towards them, grabbing a throw blanket from a box near by. He draped it over them, and stood back with a smile. He loved his children, he always had. He’d made mistakes, and he had accepted them, but he’d been working to make them right since that day when Castiel showed up, amulet in hand, triggering his resurgence. He’d stepped up and become the father he had hoped he could have been to start with. If he had been better, maybe none of those awful things would have happened.

 

He smiled as an arm wound around his waist and his wife of nearly seven years pressed against him. He pulled her in close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He didn’t know what he had ever done to deserve her, but he was glad that Fate thought that he did. She made him better, made him become a better person, and a better father. She’d pushed him, nurtured him, yelled at him. She had done whatever was necessary over the years to help him become someone he could be proud of.

 

Chuck Shurley had never been proud of anything in his life. He had been a loner, a barely functioning alcoholic, a mediocre writer, and a generally invisible human being. The moment he met Meghan, though, everything changed. Sure he was God, but it went beyond that. Now, he was a good person, a good father and a good husband. He was someone his children could be proud of, and that meant more to the curly-haired deity than, well, anything.

 

“When should we tell them?” She whispered softly, letting her head rest against his shoulder.

 

“Good question.” He looked over the three once more, his gaze lingering on the smallest figure. She was perfect in every way, so much like her mother. She was brave, smart, generous, and fearless. She took everything in stride and nothing could keep her down for long.

 

“How do you think she’ll take it? The others will be fine, I’m sure. They’re used to it. It’s Ava I’m worried about.”

 

He nodded in agreement. “True, but she’s smart, and she’s observant. She’s already asked me why you’ve been getting sick when it’s not winter anymore.”

 

“She is? Damn. I thought I’d been hiding it pretty well.”

 

“You never hide anything well. Your old journal is open on Gabriel’s lap.” He pointed out with a cheeky grin, his blue eyes dancing in the dim streams of sunlight that filtered through the large, round stained glass window at the front of the house.

 

“Oh, shut up. You’re no better.” She shoved him playfully and poked her tongue out at him, her own mossy eyes bright with laughter.

 

“Are you ready for this?” He asked, turning serious as he pulled his wife into a hug, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Are **we** ready for this?”

 

“No, but we don’t have much choice.” She sighed, her cheek against his chest, her ear pressed over his heart. The steady thrum of it soothed her.

 

“Round two, it is then. I hope this one’s a boy.”

 

“As many children as you have, I don’t think gender is really going to matter, sweetie.”

 

The deity scoffed lightly at his goddess’ words. She wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t going to admit that. Not yet, anyways. 


End file.
